After collecting the pins, a drop-off location, and two unmarked credit chits, I headed for the mess hall. The unsettled feeling in my gut had to be hunger — why else would it worsen each time I passed the stall with the chocolate? 

Once seated with a nutritionally complete — and cheap — tray in front of me, I couldn’t eat. My stomach was in knots and something weird was going on. At the table across from me, a petite shifter flirted with a pair of mages. And they were flirting back. 

Nausea rolled through me. 

Another table held five shifters with the same build — most likely a squad with the same animals — drinking caf blend with a few mages. 

My temples throbbed in time with my racing heart. What the fuck was going on?

“Where have you been?” Avon loomed over me. The relief of seeing him after meeting the vestige — being reminded of what I stood to lose — almost distracted me from the fact that I was having an aneurysm or out-of-body experience or some shit. 

“Avon.” I licked my lips nervously and Avon must have heard how freaked out I was, because his gaze changed from anger over worry to flat worry. “That table over there? What do you see?” I tipped my chin toward the flirts.

Avon shook his head, and a faint hint of bewilderment fuzzed the blocked bond. “That’s Sammie, Ima, and Ami. They always—” His eyes widened. “Up. Now. We need to get you to the medicos.”

“What?” Had Avon lost his mind, too? “I just sat down! And it’s only a light flux burn!”

“You have flux—” Avon broke off with a string of curses that dropped my jaw. “Why didn’t you report to medbay when we got back? Where did you fucking go?”

His eyes burned as they bore into mine, demanding answers every bit as much as his words did. But I couldn’t tell him with the humans around. We were already drawing eyes, bored from a long day supervising and ready for some gossip.

“I can’t—”

“Dammit, Nova! You can’t keep pushing me away!” 

That outburst brought more unwanted attention. Even the flirts stopped to watch.

“Can we talk about this later?” I stared at my tray with the congealing grey goo. Picking up the tray, I walked over and dumped it in the disposal. The leftovers would be ground up, decontaminated, and formed into something new by breakfast. The tray would just get washed. 

Avon either caught on or was so pissed he couldn’t speak — he followed me out of the mess, regardless. I led the way toward our room, where we could pretend to have privacy and sort this cluster fuck out. But nope — Avon was apparently aiming for my title of resident dickhead. He slammed me up against the wall as soon as we’d turned a corner.

“Get the fuck off me!” It was wrong in a way I didn’t have words for — the hands I’d always welcomed made my skin crawl. I was going to be sick on the damn grey tiles and there was not a single thing I could do about it.

My head spun. Today had been a rollercoaster, and I was mentally and physically done. Swallowing bile, I turned toward our room.

“Nova.” Avon sounded exhausted. “Please. You need to see a medico.”

This time, I considered it. Mostly to appease Avon, but what if they had something that could make all this craziness stop? Like a reset button to this morning, when Avon and I had been okay. My head throbbed harder at the thought.

“Yeah, fine.” I scrubbed my hands across my face. “I need to talk to Dia, anyway.”

***

The sterile, paper-draped table would kill me.

Don’t ask me how. I watched it from the exam room’s door.

It didn’t move. Of course not — it couldn’t. My lips twisted into a self-deprecating smirk.

“Nova?” Avon’s hand almost touched my back, propelling me into the room.

The bolts where heavy straps could be attached to the table hooked my eyes and wouldn’t let go. I detoured, landing in the corner farthest from death, and pressed my back tight before sliding down to rest on the cold tiles. 

A strangled sound escaped Avon’s clenched lips. He started toward me and stopped with a hurt expression after a single step. Only then did I realize my head was shaking, no. I forced it to stillness by locking the muscles. The throbbing that had started in the mess hall lingered. 

It was just flux burn — had to be. I was being a pansy.

I pinched my arm until blood welled. It helped me focus on Avon fidgeting near the door, whispering with a bored medico. The medico’s glazed look promised he gave not one fuck about either of us. My shoulders ached as I pressed harder into the corner. 

“Doesn’t matter.” The medico cut Avon off with a wave. “We treat what the diagnostic tool says.” He approached with the curved plate of the DT that would adhere to my forehead extended.

I flinched, bouncing my head off the wall, and the medico scowled. 

“Look.” He pointed at the deadly table. “Put the DT on. Get your ass on the table.”

My head was shaking again and my booted feet scrabbled on the slick tiles, shoving me further into the corner. I scrunched up, pulling my knees tight to my chest.

“Leave him be!” Avon snatched the DT, crossed to my corner, and placed it on my forehead. Then he stepped back before the shriek fighting to escape my throat won. The device immediately beeped, shrill and persistent, and kept beeping faster and faster. Why was it making such a racket? My heart thudded in my chest and a familiar tingle — prelude to summoning fire — ghosted over my fingers. But that—

“That’s not right.” The medico tapped at his wrist comp and frowned.

“No shit!” Avon’s fists were clenched at his sides and the blocked bond hummed with tension. My breath came in short pants and the harsh chemical scent of the room promised pain.

Which, again, didn’t make sense. The table wouldn’t hurt me. The medico didn’t give a fuck, but that also meant he didn’t actively want to hurt me. And Avon…

I loved my brother. He belonged beside me, always. 

So why the fuck was everything spiraling out of control? Avon and the medico were shouting at each other, and Avon’s hands came up. He was going to do it. He was going to shove the medico, and we’d spend the next three weeks in a corvée—

A wash of calm swept the room. Avon’s hands came down. The medico straightened his fatigues. My breath stopped in my throat. How did I know assaulting the medico would land us in a corvée for three weeks?

It wasn’t in the rules. Not specifically that — just a vague subject to internal discipline. The scars on my back burned.

 A sharp pinch on the side of my neck made me gasp and reminded me that air was good. The hypospray withdrew, and I met pale blue eyes with dark shadows. This medico wore a white jacket with large pockets over his fatigues. Standing, I knew he’d be a little shorter than me, with the same scrawny build. His golden hair was clipped to a short bristle and his face sported a scruffy stubble. But Dia was the head medico on base — with authority to command the lowest ranked humans — and sometimes he chose to skirt the grooming standards. 

His eyes searched mine — for what, fuck if I knew — but he must have found it because he pulled away. The injection on top of Dia’s spellwork turned my muscles to jelly, leaving the wall my only support. 

When Dia stepped back and turned around, Avon and the medico stood separated by a safe margin, looking sheepish.

“Medico Barnes,” Dia said with deceptive calmness. 

The medico stiffened. 

“Please keep in mind that the personnel of this base are aware of protocol.” 

“Of course, but—”

“If they are violating it — if one of those personnel tells you something is wrong — you need to either allow for variance while you investigate or find a ranking medico who will.” Dia’s tone left no room for misunderstanding. 

Barnes kept digging anyway.

“If he just got on the table—” 

“The DT was signalling an active panic attack. You didn’t misread that red, flashing alert?”

“No.” Barnes bit off his answer.

“A mage or shifter in a panic attack is one reason we can request our collars be unlocked.”

“Yes, sir. But—”

“No buts.” Dia folded his arms and his voice dropped lower. 

Barnes slumped a bit and bowed his head.

“If you’re not comfortable asking the human officers, escalate it quickly. Panic can give a strong mage — or shifter — the strength to fight through the collars. We can’t afford either.”

Now feeling detached and sleepy, I found this hysterical. Panic attack? I snorted. I did not panic.

Avon’s relieved chuckle told me I’d said that out loud.

“Sure, champ. Whatever you say.” Dia dismissed the other medico with a jerk of his chin and pulled the stool over, sitting toward the wall. 

“You’re trying not to block me in.” I chuckled and leaned my head against the wall he was closest to. “Doesn’t matter. You turned my bones to mush.”

“Well, let’s not make those feel-good chemicals work any harder than they have to, huh?” Dia smiled and tapped at his wrist comp so that the display projected. “So. Got a little crispy today, did we? First-degree flux burn.” He swiped across the display, moving the top report to the side. “You both should have been here as soon as you cleared decon.”

I snickered, twisting to rest the side of my head against my knees that somehow were still folded against my chest. “Before or after we dressed?”

“Well, from the aesthetic standpoint…” Dia’s smile widened when Avon groaned. “But who have you been hanging out with that you, of all of us, would think to ask? I might need to meet them.”

“You probably have.” Avon scrubbed his face, then went to sit on the table. A whimper, short and sharp, filled the room when he touched it. He jerked back and shot me a wide-eyed look.

“It’s okay. Everyone’s fine,” Dia soothed. His smile pursed briefly as he tapped on his wrist comp. Another medico appeared at the door with a squeaky-wheeled stool. She shoved it inside and pressed a button beside the door. It sealed with a hiss.

Avon slumped onto the stool, isolated in the middle of the room.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “The medicos back at the training base said—”

“That it’d be like it never happened.” Dia’s smile grew brittle. “But in ten years, that’s not been the case, has it?”

What the hell were they talking about? Suddenly less floaty, I studied Avon, searching his face as he shook his head.

“He’s had blind spots. Things he didn’t — couldn’t — notice.” Dia flipped through screen after screen on his display. “Anger.”

Pity I couldn’t read backward. I had a feeling it would answer a whole lotta questions.

“It’s not his fault,” Avon protested. “He doesn’t remember!”

With a sigh, Dia closed the display and twisted so he could look from me to Avon.

“Boys. Never have I suspected you of malice. Not even after that brawl in the mess hall.”

“They started it!” The words escaped without thought, but guilt followed. Not about the brawl. That was on the assholes who thought I looked like an easy mark. But was I being malicious toward A-the-asshole? The DT still on my forehead chirped again, and Dia pulled his display back up.

“Look,” he said. “I don’t approve of the treatment approach they took with you. I never did. My hands were tied while it wasn’t a problem. Now? We’re limited, but we’ve got a few options.”

“We’re mages.” My voice cracked. “We don’t get options about treatment.”

“This time you do.” Dia tapped the hypospray’s dial, leaned over, and shot me again.

“Ow,” I said, more out of duty than actual feeling. I felt numb, inside and out. They had done something to me — something Avon knew about. And now I supposedly had a choice?

“What are our options?” Avon asked.

“Leave the memory block in place.” Dia watched the display reveal everything the DT could mine from my physique. “It could stabilize back to how it’s been — how he’s been. Or destabilize further.”

Avon nodded, and I realized this wasn’t about me making a choice after all.

“We can re-block the memory. It’d increase the stability, at least in the short run.” Dia tapped on his wrist comp, and Avon’s pinged. Avon displayed the message, reading it while I tried to read him. “Or we take out the block. Work to resolve the trauma.”

“What fucking trauma?” I forced my legs to bear my weight and stood, swaying. “You keep talking—” The DT beeped frantically. I wrenched it off my head and flung it across the room.

“Nova, calm down.” Avon stood, too, and approached with his hands out. “I can ex—”

“Explain?” I wrenched the word from the blocked bond, though it made my head ache. “What could possibly explain lying for ten fucking years?” I took a shaky step toward the door.

“It’s not like that!” Avon crossed to block my path to the door. Even if I’d been one hundred percent, I wouldn’t have been able to get past him. The helplessness made me want to vomit. I lashed out instead.

“What’s with you? Accusing me of pushing you away?” His words from earlier burned with injustice. “When you’re hanging out with shifters? And now I can’t leave?”

“Let’s take this down a notch.” 

A soothing blanket of peace fell over us again, but this time I fought it, tooth and nail. I bit my lip until it bled. My fingernails sliced into my palms. And I shoved that fucking calm away like my life depended on it.

It didn’t help. I slumped to my knees. Avon was on his, too, facing me. The few steps between us felt like a chasm. Giving in, I collapsed to rest my head on the grey tiles.

“This is partially my fault,” Dia said. “I thought today’s incident involved the two of you talking about what happened back then. That’s not it, though, is it?”

“No.” Avon’s voice was as scratchy as my throat felt.

“Alright.” Dia’s stool squeaked as he pushed off it. “That’s the first thing that’s going to have to happen. And as much as I love my medbay, this isn’t the place for that discussion.” He sighed. “The injections will help you recover from the flux burn and take a bit of the edge off as you work things out if you do it pretty soon. Once your heads are pointed in the same direction, come see me again.”

Dia hoisted Avon to his feet, then me, before leaving me leaning on Avon. He was right inasmuch as my skin didn’t crawl at the contact. Then I remembered why I’d wanted to come to the medbay.

“Wait!” I swallowed. “We — I — need a favor.”

Dia stopped before he reached the door. His brow cocked in a silent question and his smile remained.

“The human’s toys — Twenty and Twenty-one. They get dosed daily with… something. At night.”

Dia nodded in acknowledgment or agreement. Maybe both.

“Look, they need to get switched, so they’re getting it in the morning, not at night.” I fumbled in a pocket and pulled out the first credit chit with 45 black market credits.

“What?” Dia’s mouth fell open. “No — they just got a dose. Switching it to morning—”

“Look, Twenty-one’s not sleeping after he gets his. Twenty looks like a junkie.” Or that was Avon’s take, anyway. “Just… give them another dose in the morning, and keep them on that schedule.”

“I can’t switch two of ‘em and leave the third, you ass.” Dia looked angry, and the smile was finally gone. “Besides, it’s only been three days. I have no medical records whatsoever.” Rage darkened Dia’s voice. “They’ve given me nothing, and if the human’s new toys break, who will they blame?”

I glanced at Avon, searching for support against Dia’s uncharacteristic loss of control. Avon shook his head. He wanted me to leave it, to fall back and take another look at the situation. But with Twenty-one suffering… I had to try again.

“The toys won’t break. It’s just a little change.” 

“So now you’re a medico? You’ve run the diagnostics to know that?” Dia’s glare left me feeling flensed even through the drugs.

“No.” I glanced away, then met Dia’s eyes. “But I’ve talked to… them.” It wasn’t too much of an exaggeration — I’d talked with Twenty-one. “They know how things should be. This would be a good for them.”

Dia’s lips pursed and his eyes narrowed, searching mine.

“No one gets hurt. No one has to know.” I hesitated, then pulled out the second chit. My hand shook as I held them out.

Dia sighed, then collected both chits.

“You know that’s less than half a month’s salary for me, right? Not enough to risk my neck.”

“No neck-risking involved.” Relief fueled my smile, but it faded as a question killed it. “What exactly are you giving them? Why aren’t they reacting the same?”

“I…” Dia drummed his fingers on his hypospray. “I don’t know. It’s prepackaged in boxes of ten. We finished the first tonight — Twenty-one got the last injection. The second box…” Dia grimaced. “The ampules are huge, and red instead of green.” Dia glanced at the door and leaned close. “Look, I asked — the officer on duty’s usually pretty laid back, for a human — and she just said to shut up and do my job.”

My mouth went dry. Whatever was in the new dose, Twenty-one would get it in the morning. The alternative — him getting the new version, then being left to A’s care overnight — churned my stomach. At least this way, Avon and I could keep an eye on him. Plus, it was an off-day for the squad, and we’d be on base unless they sent us to deal with an incursion.

“Still wanna do this?” Dia’s knowing look made me itch.

“Yeah.” I shook myself. “Yeah. Avon and me — we can deal with it.” I didn’t meet Avon’s disapproving glare.

Dia huffed a little laugh, grabbed my collar, and pulled me down. He pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead.

“You’re still clueless. Try to stay alive, huh?” He glanced at Avon. “Watch him. And watch your backs.”